


we'll meet again

by monstermash



Series: memento mori (remember, you will die) [11]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bioshock AU, M/M, look i was gonna make a bioshock au at some point tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: And given what he’s seen so far – drowned splicers and other grotesque things that Garrett would rather not be reminded of – and what the voice had said(“a real lunatic, a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath”),Garrett isn’t sure he wants to meet the Baptist, even if this personcanhelp them escape.Garrett thinks he prefers his chances with the Big Daddies and the splicers.





	1. don't know where, don't know when

**Author's Note:**

> a bioshock au because it's still my favorite game. this is just gonna be a one-shot for now, i might add more onto it. also, sander cohen and john seed are both dramatic so it just kinda fit? which is also the excuse i'm going w/ if john's speech sounds kinda weird in this lmao

The water of this half-flooded part of the city sloshes as he wades through the halls, Vera Lynn’s singing playing on repeat over the sound system that somehow still works.

He’d been directed here by the voice from the radio, told to come looking for someone specifically. Someone who could help them escape this terrible city. After all he’s seen down here, Garrett wishes he’d never entered the bathysphere in that lighthouse, never should’ve entered the lighthouse at all.

He should’ve realized that there shouldn’t have been a lighthouse in the middle of the _damn_ Atlantic, but Garrett had been soaked to the bone and freezing after the plane crashed that he hadn’t given it a second thought.

Heaving out a sigh of relief, Garrett climbs onto a raised platform that thankfully isn’t submerged and tries to rest for a few moments before getting back to his search, tries to relax as much as one can in a city like Rapture, where splicers wait around every corner with neon lights and ADAM shaped stars in their eyes. 

The radio at his hip remains silent – has been silent – ever since he came to Frolic Valley, a place within Rapture filled with casinos, bars, theatres, and the brightest lights in all of Rapture. He idly wonders why the person on the other end hasn’t given him further guidance. All he knows is that he’s supposed to find someone called _‘The Baptist.’_

And given what he’s seen so far – drowned splicers and other grotesque things that Garrett would rather not be reminded of – and what the voice had said _(“a real lunatic, a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath”),_ Garrett isn’t sure he wants to meet the Baptist, even if this person _can_ help them escape.

Garrett thinks he prefers his chances with the Big Daddies and the splicers.

Static crackles over the radio and Garrett fumbles to grab it, thinking it’s the person who’s been helping him so far, but the voice is different; he doesn’t know who this is.

“A lost lamb has wandered into Frolic Valley,” the new voice says, an odd pleasantness to its tone. “Have you come to atone? Or perhaps you’re trying to bring law into a lawless place, Deputy?”

 _Deputy?_ Garrett frowns down at the radio in his hand.

“We have all evening to find out,” the voice practically purrs and Garrett just kinda wants to lie down and take a nap. This is probably the Baptist; Garrett wonders why there’s no one sane left down here. This guy will probably try to maim him like the last two did, although Arcadia’s death by poison wasn’t really Rachel Jessop’s fault. “Those two blowhards can have their petty squabble over the city any time they want, but you… I’ve seen your work; a thing of beauty, much like yourself.”

Is—is this guy _flirting_ with him? In the middle of a city torn apart by violence at the bottom of the sea? Garrett’s beginning to wonder if he’s a magnet for weird.

“Come to Fleet Hall, Deputy. I welcome you into my home.”

And then the radio clicks off and Garrett’s alone once more with Vera Lynn’s singing.

 _Fleet Hall, Fleet Hall…_ Garrett knows he saw a few signs for it somewhere…

With a sigh, Garrett climbs back down to the flooded floor and starts walking.

\---

If Garrett had thought the Medical Pavilion had been a nightmare, Frolic Valley is in a league of its own; a surreal nightmare filled with plaster coated statues that attack when your back is turned, splicers disappearing and reappearing in tiny explosions of rose petals, and the only thing keeping Garrett’s head together other than sheer force of will is the Baptist, as messed up as it sounds.

The sound of his voice, the lilts and odd emphasis on certain words, it brings a strange sense of calm to Garrett, though he hasn’t quite decided if he hates the weird flirting the Baptist seems fond of; it’s not exactly off-putting, but this isn’t exactly the time or place for it.

The Baptist talks to him almost constantly – well, it’s more like he talks _at_ Garrett, because Garrett hasn’t exactly had the chance to answer yet, too busy trying to not die – and if the warning from earlier hadn’t alerted him to just how dangerous the Baptist can be, then the fact that Garrett watched a man at a piano die in a fiery explosion when he refused to play anymore and the Baptist’s nonchalant reaction is enough to convince him.

(He’s not even going to mention the fact that the Baptist had him take a picture of the deceased man.)

(“You’ve got the eye of a shutterbug, little lamb. Bring me his photograph; we’ve got a collaboration to start.”)

\---

Poseidon Plaza is fucking freezing.

It’s so cold in there that Garrett freezes in place, joints locking and a man, who’s almost as mad as the Baptist arrives, says something about having a pose picked out. Garrett thinks he hears the man say the Baptist’s real name at one point, but he can’t be sure, not with a head full of ice.

\---

“Are you enjoying yourself, little lamb? You’re certainly painting a pretty picture with all the blood you’ve spilled,” the Baptist says over the radio as Garrett sits on the stairs, having put the next picture in the frame and trying to get the last chill out of his skin. “Oh, but look, you’re shaking; you should throw that raggedy thing out, there’s bound to be something much warmer around here.”

Garrett happens to _like_ this sweater, thank you very much.

“It has sentimental value,” Garrett says into the radio, the first time he’s been able to actually talk back. “And if you’re so concerned that I don’t freeze to death then how about you come do something about it.”

A pause, and then, “Is that an invitation, Deputy?”

It sounds teasing, a joke, but Garrett’s been listening to his voice for a few hours now, so he can hear the undercurrent of hope in the Baptist’s tone.

He’s playing with fire here, he knows he is because he knows the Baptist is unhinged and dangerous, but Garrett can’t seem to help himself. “Depends. Are you interested?”

Garrett can hear a sharp inhale before the Baptist answers. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. For now.”

“Fair enough,” Garrett concedes with something resembling a wild grin on his face and wow, Rapture has changed him; not too much, but enough to be noticeable.

\---

He stands in the backroom of a strip club, the bloodied body of the woman from his strange visions lays on the bed, face twisted in fear.

It hurts to look at her and Garrett can’t say why. Maybe because she didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood by the tyrant in charge of Rapture.

Garrett manages to find a clean sheet in the closet, closes her eyes and covers her with the sheet. At the very least, she doesn’t deserve to be left like this.

Rodriguez is at the bar, already intoxicated, when Garrett comes back out of the backroom.

\---

“I thought you were a lost lamb, but no… you’re more than that. An angel of Wrath. I’ve never painted an angel… maybe I should…”

\---

“What are you? Seed’s little messenger?” Cobb sneers before throwing a molotov at Garrett.

“No,” is the only answer he can give before there’s a hail of fire and glass.

It makes Garrett wonder how Rapture has managed to survive this long without any of the glass that keeps the ocean water out from breaking.

“He was a nasty one,” the Baptist tells him when Cobb lies dead and Garrett is taking his picture. “And my favorite. But I think it’s safe to say I have a new favorite now.”

\---

Garrett runs into a Big Daddy on the way back to the Baptist’s picture frames and takes a spinning drill to the stomach. It rips him open, but the pain is a dull reminder in the back of his mind; it won’t last, his skin will knit back together in no time, all on its own.

_(That isn’t normal.)_

_(Isn’t it?)_

It takes a lot of dodging and too many bullets, but eventually the metal behemoth falls and all that is left is the crying Little Sister. He rescues her without even having to think about it; harvesting them for ADAM has never been an option for him, even when the voice that guides him through the radio suggested he should.

_(Can you even trust someone who wanted you to do that?)_

_(But they’ve helped me this far, haven’t they?)_

“You’ve got the knack for destruction, but I never thought you had the capacity for mercy,” the Baptist says with something akin to wonder in his voice. “You never cease to amaze, do you?”

\---

When he places the final photograph all the lights shut off and a drum roll begins.

 _Really?_ Garrett thinks, but this is the Baptist, unhinged and dramatic through and through.

But then he hears the Baptist’s voice and it isn’t over the radio, but behind him, descending the stairs with a spotlight focused on him as he goes.

Garrett can feel his heart lurch and twist behind his ribs, but it isn’t in fear.

And then the Baptist removes his mask and Garrett is immediately taken in by those baby blues.

The Baptist comes to a stop in front of the morbid picture frames and admires them before turning to face Garrett.

“It’s beautiful. I don’t think anything else I could ever make would even come close to this, to you,” the Baptist reaches out, placing a hand on Garrett’s jaw, his fingers digging in enough to emphasize his point but not enough to really hurt. “Your path forward is clear, though I’m loathe to part with you. Maybe I should keep you, Deputy.”

“Or you could come with me, John,” Garrett suggests, using the Baptist’s real name.

John looks surprised for all of one second before a smile eases onto his face. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage, Deputy. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Will you come with me if I tell you?”

“Yes,” John answers without even having to think about it.

So, Garrett leans in close, lips brushing against the shell of John’s ear, and he tells him his name.


	2. there's frost on the moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title comes from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03un4MBkL9Y)

_(“Watch yourself, Ryan’s stirring. We best keep to our knitting.”)_

This is it. This is _finally_ it; Garrett and John just have to get the genetic key to Rapture from Ryan and then they can all leave.

Garrett can finally make it to Mary May and Billy and he can take John with him and never have to think about this place ever again.

“Now would you kindly head to Ryan’s office and kill the son of a bitch… it’s time to finish this.” The radio clicks off and Atlas’ voice is gone.

“Eloquent as always, Atlas,” John says wryly, following Garrett through the winding halls, heading deeper into Hephaestus.

There’s something about the place that doesn’t feel right, too oppressive, too foreboding, and right off the bat they run into a couple of workers driven mad by ADAM sickness.

When they pass by a Vita-Chamber, Garrett makes note of it; he’s had to use them a couple of times, but they always leave him disoriented, though he’s found if he pays close attention to where they’re located, he doesn’t get as lost when he does have to make use of them.

“Those things don’t actually work, you know,” John tells him. Garrett’s brow furrows in confusion, because of course they work, but he stops himself from speaking when John continues. “At best they fix exhaustion or a common cold. There’s only one man who can be brought back by those and he’s been locked up in his office for the past year.”

“How do you know? That it only works for him?”

“Because he’s the only one with the genetic key for it.”

The sense of foreboding worsens and Garrett doesn’t ask any more questions.

\---

The steam from the exposed pipes makes it hard to see the further in they go, but Garrett can see the outlines of corpses nailed to the walls. He finds himself grabbing one of John’s hands, the stench of blood and decay too strong for him to stomach, though a wave of relief washes over him when John doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Ryan was always more of a businessman than an artist,” John comments dryly, looking around the hall with a critical eye, and Garrett manages a half smile at John’s attempt at humor, but then Ryan’s voice comes in over the radio.

He taunts them, mostly Garrett, and the door to Ryan’s office is locked.

\---

Garrett finds another one of those audio logs while they’re searching in one of the smaller offices; apparently this audio log belongs to the man behind the locked and barricaded door.

He grimaces as it plays, Ryan’s voice speaking _‘Words of Wisdom’_ and he honestly can’t wait to deck the guy.

“He can’t possibly believe any of this bullshit he’s spouting, can he?”

There’s an amused huff from John. “If you don’t like him then why do you listen to him?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out if this is all just an elaborate joke gone wrong or if he really is an Ayn Rand knock-off. Personally I’m hoping for the former.”

“And if it’s the latter?”

Garrett looks up from the desk he’s searching through. “Then if wasn’t clear before, then it is now; capitalism was a mistake.”

\---

“Rapture is coming back to life. Even now, can’t you hear the breath returning to her lungs? The shops re-opening, the schools humming with the thoughts of young minds? My city will live, _my_ city will _thrive._ And when that day comes, we’ll use your tombstone for paving tiles.”

The radio clicks off and Garrett just stares blankly at it.

“Wow, he’s even more delusional than I thought.”

John sighs forlornly, but nods in agreement. “It’s the end of an era and he just can’t let go.”

\---

They happen upon a fight between a Big Daddy and two workers, who seem to be losing the battle.

And it hasn’t occurred to him until now that everyone else gets torn up so easily by these behemoths and Garrett feels afraid, not for himself but for John; because it suddenly occurs to him – or more like he’s finally accepting this fact that’s been staring him in the face this entire time – that no one can withstand the same kind of damage he can. That no one can take a spinning drill to the stomach and walk away fine a few moments later.

It isn’t possible. It isn’t _normal._

(He’s a magnet for weird but he’s weird himself.)

\---

It’s dark, this far down in Hephaestus, where the walls are solid rock and the heat almost unbearable.

The lights cut out here and there, but it’s not for lack of power; it’s obviously intentional.

He and John keep hold of each so they don’t get lost in the dark.

John’s grip on Garrett’s hand turns almost painful when he has another of those odd visions; static ghosts reliving their deaths. This one must’ve particularly bad, because when his vision clears, Garrett finds himself sprawled out on the metal floor and John holding him close, muttering over and over again.

“Don’t die,” he pleads.

“I won’t,” Garrett finds himself promising and meaning it with his entire being.

\---

They’ve managed to assemble a bomb someone (one of the people who left behind a lot of audio logs in Hephaestus, Garrett can’t remember the name) left behind and he’s a little wary about setting off a bomb in an underwater city, but Atlas seems sure it’ll work and John doesn’t offer any protests to the idea.

“Looks like the ocean’s got an itch to retake this corner of Rapture… this happened right after the start of the war, read about it in the papers… head on in, I’ll see what I can dig up to help…”

And that doesn’t really make Garrett any less nervous about what will happen if a bomb goes off here, but there aren’t a lot of choices open to them at the moment.

He and John set out traps before they finally turn the valve to boil away the water.

“Will these creatures kill you? Even I don’t know. As you drag me closer to the abyss, you pull yourself right along with me,” Ryan sneers at him over the radio. “I offer you a quick death, parasite. It will be preferable to what you will learn if you win.”

“Well that was… ominous,” Garrett says as they wait.

“I’m not the only one with a flair for the dramatic down here,” John reminds him.

Garrett doesn’t get the chance to answer because of the swarming splicers that seem to come out of nowhere.

“Is there blood in the streets? Of course. Have some chosen to destroy themselves with careless splicing? Undeniable. But I will make no proclamations, I will dictate no laws. The Great Chain moves slowly, but with wisdom. It is our impatience that invites in the Parasite of big government. And once you’ve invited it in, it will never stop feeding on the body of the city.”

He really wants to rip this guy a new one, but Garrett’s busy fighting for his and John’s lives right now, and isn’t that frustrating beyond belief? Ryan always seems to radio him when he can’t even call the guy out on his shit opinions.

Then again, the guy probably does it on purpose.

\---

He ignores Ryan’s taunts, about his use of the word “nostalgia,” about the weird almost painful flashes of memory he gets (it’s of Mary and Billy and himself, a photo they took in greyscale and when he tries to remember the color of their eyes, their hair, there’s nothing but a sharp pain lancing through his skull).

Instead, Garrett holds onto John’s hand as they ride the lift up.

Ryan’s words make Garrett doubt, but John’s presence makes things easier.

Right now, John is the only person who feels real to Garrett in a city, that by all stretches of the imagination, shouldn’t be real.

After he’s placed the bomb and it starts messing with the electrical system, Garrett grabs John’s hand again and they run through the dark halls of Hephaestus, dodging splicers and sparking wires along the way.

\---

They have to crawl through the vents a short distance before dropping into a room where a wall is plastered with papers and pictures of people, red threads connecting them all, and _Would You Kindly_ written in bright red paint.

Garrett plays a recording, of a man named Suchong ordering a little boy to kill a puppy, using the words _Would You Kindly_ and Garrett feels the world tilt in vertigo for a moment, bile rising up his throat.

His head hurts and it isn’t until John’s fingers brush his cheek that he even realizes that he’d been crying.

The next audio log, Garrett barely listens to, but _Lot 111_ sticks out like a sore thumb.

Garrett feels like he’s standing precariously on the edge, that with one final push his whole world will collapse around him.

He thinks of the dead woman in the back room of that strip club in Frolic Valley, remembers her ghost of static being killed.

He thinks of how Ryan had called him ‘child’ and a disappointment and it gets under his skin.

He thinks of Atlas, and how he uses _Would You Kindly_ and Garrett begins thinking that maybe it isn’t just a turn of phrase that the man happens to be fond of.

He thinks maybe he’s starting to lose his mind down here – or maybe he lost it the moment he entered the bathysphere – but then John holds him close and Garrett lets his eyes fall shut; he can’t break down here, not now, not yet.

\---

“The assassin has overcome my final defense, and now he’s come to murder me. In the end, what separates a man from a slave? Money, power? No.” Ryan looks up from his little game of golf and Garrett can’t stand to look at him, but he can’t look away either. “A man chooses. A slave obeys. You think you have memories.”

Ryan smirks at him, like there’s something funny about any of this, his attention solely on Garrett and ignores John completely. “A farm. A family. An airplane. A crash. And then this place. Was there really a family? Did that airplane crash, or was it hijacked? Forced down. Forced down by something less than a man.”

Garrett bristles at the man’s words and the painful images they conjure up out of nowhere and John doesn’t take his hand, not in front of this tyrant, but he steps closer.

“Something bred to sleepwalk through life until they are activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master. Was a man sent to kill? Or a slave? A man chooses, a slave obeys. Come in.”

The door by the window they’ve been looking through opens and as soon as Garrett steps through it, it slides shut; John’s yelling something in frustration and Garrett tries prying the door open, but then he hears Ryan’s voice behind him.

“Stop, would you kindly?”

And Garrett stops trying to open the door. His heart is racing uncomfortably and sweat is beading along his temple.

“Would you kindly. Powerful phrase. Familiar phrase?” Flashes of all the times Atlas has said those words run through his mind and Garrett feels sick and his hands are beginning to shake. John’s frustrated voice behind the door sounds distant and faraway. “Sit, would you kindly. Stand, would you kindly. Run. Stop! Turn.”

Garrett finds himself doing all of the things Ryan orders and the sick feeling in him turns into rot and there are tears prickling in his eyes, but he doesn’t let himself cry. Not in front of Ryan. Not in front of this tyrant who destroyed the lives of so many people.

He watches as Ryan approaches him, golf club in hand, and Garrett is so sure that this is where he’ll die, that he’ll break his promise to John.

The golf club rises up and he faintly realizes that they’re now standing in front of the window he and John had been looking through and he doesn’t want John to watch as he gets brutally murdered. But then, instead of it coming down on him in a harsh arc, Ryan holds it out for him and Garrett it takes it even though he doesn’t want to.

“A man chooses. A slave obeys. Kill.” Garrett hits him with the golf club, a sickening thud of metal hitting skin. He doesn’t want to do this. He wants to stop. “A man chooses. A slave obeys.” 

The more Garrett hits him, the more twisted and broken the golf club becomes and he’s definitely crying now, unable to stop it. Ryan grabs him by his sweater, pulls Garrett’s face closer to his own bloody, mangled one and speaks one final time.

_“Obey.”_

And then Ryan dies with a golf club lodged in his head and Garrett is shaking, tears streaking down his face.

“Hurry now… grab Ryan’s genetic key! Now would you kindly put it in that goddamn machine?” Atlas’ voice comes in over the radio and Garrett finds himself complying even though he doesn’t want to, dread settling in his gut along with whatever else it is that he’s feeling in the aftermath of… _that._

As soon as the key slots in, the self-destruct sequence stops.

And a part of Garrett’s world shatters.

He can’t hear John anymore.

“You been a pal, but you know what they say… Never mix business with friendship. Thanks for everything, kid… Don’t forget to say hi to Ryan for me,” Atlas – no, Frank Fontaine – says.

There are security bots everywhere, sirens blaring, but a cured little sister shows up and leads him into an open vent where there are more of them leading him through the twists and turns, but then pain lances through him and everything fades to black.


	3. maybe you'll think of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSv7Nq2ia_Y)

He wakes to bright lights and a warm hand holding tightly on to his and Tenenbaum’s voice.

“Welcome back, child. Welcome to the city where you were born,” Tenenbaum says from where she stands by his bed while John sits on the edge of it. “While you sleep, I undo some of Fontaine’s mental conditioning. His control is no longer complete, but he can still pull some very unpleasant strings.”

He isn’t happy to find out that Tenenbaum helped make him into a tool, a weapon, but at least she helped undo a lot of what had been done. It’s a start, though Garrett wishes more could have been fixed.

Tenenbaum leaves them be after she tells them that Mercury Suites would be a good place to start looking for a way to fix him completely.

This city is hell and Garrett wishes he’d never come here. But then he wouldn’t have met John who looks at him with red rimmed eyes and a tight smile.

“I didn’t die,” Garrett says and that gets a bark of laughter out of the other man.

“No. No you didn’t, Deputy.”

A small smile he can’t help grows on his face at the surge of fondness he feels; Garrett’s only known John for about two days, but he’s already grown so attached to him. But there's something…

“Patrick and Moira,” Garrett says, a new memory snapping into place.

“What?” John asks, somewhat confused. But Garrett remembers now.

“Patrick and Moira. Atlas’ fake son and wife. The names sounded familiar, but I could never figure out why. It’s because it was the name of one of your musicals,” Garrett says, wonder in his voice as the memory becomes clearer, more defined. “I remember seeing it in ‘58 as a reward for good behavior.”

He remembers being drawn in by the music, by the story of two ghosts falling in love.

He remembers that when it was over, John had gone onstage to bow with the actors and Garrett remembers being entranced by his blue eyes, by his bright smile.

(Garrett’s pretty sure that was the moment he fell in love with the man and hadn’t even realized it. Love at first sight, as clichéd as it sounds.)

He remembers being disappointed when Fontaine wouldn’t let him speak with John like everyone else seemed to be doing.

“It was one of the few bright spots during my time being confined to the lab,” Garrett tells him honestly.

John’s face softens and one of his hands comes up to curl around the back of Garrett’s neck, drawing him in. The kiss is a soft, chaste thing despite the look in the other man’s eyes when they part. A smile spreads on Garrett’s face and things are good for once.

\---

Things are not good.

“If you won’t dance to that tune, I got others. _‘Code Yellow.’”_

Garrett clutches desperately at his chest, his heart constricting so violently that if John hadn’t been there to catch him he would’ve hit the ground.

Fontaine isn’t fucking around and now they’re on the clock, the deadline being when Garrett’s heart finally gives out on him and Vita-Chambers won’t bring him back from natural causes.

\---

It’s odd scene that Garrett finds them in; they’re fighting splicers and a Big Daddy in the metro, sandbag barriers leftover from a war mostly forgotten, while Perry Como sings through a nearby radio while Garrett tries not to distract John with his labored breathing.

It’s difficult trying to adjust to this new shortness of breath, of the occasional, painful lurches in his heartbeat.

It gets worse when they get to the entrance to Mercury Suites. He knows he hears Frank Fontaine talking over the radio again, but his heart is beating loudly in his ears. John looks enraged by whatever the guy says and is about to smash the radio, but Garrett weakly grips his arm and stops him.

“Tenenbaum might need to call us and I don’t know if we can find another,” Garrett gasps out around his harsh breathing. “Ignore him. Not worth it… not yet.”

John relents, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

\---

There’s a piano, in Anna Culpepper’s apartment when they search through it.

Garrett wonders if he actually knows how to play or if that was just something they dreamed up for his fake life. He doesn’t remember ever having played before.

It’s something he’ll have to find out when they finally leave Rapture, when they finally make it back to the surface and onto dry land.

\---

There are recordings left by Suchong all over the man’s apartment.

Garrett listens to them and then lets John break them when he can’t stand to hear anymore. One of the recordings reveals the existence of Lot 192, the cure for Garrett’s slowly failing heart, the cure to rid him completely of the mind control.

And Tenenbaum apparently stole a dose of it and left it in her apartment. Which is a miracle, because his heart is getting worse and worse by the minute.

“Hate to see you this way, kid. Hell, I was there when you were born. You ever have a dog you gotta put down? Breaks your heart,” Fontaine’s voice says over the radio and Garrett kind of wants to let John break the radio, but they really can’t afford to.

He remembers John calling him an Angel of Wrath back in Frolic Valley and at this point Garrett’ inclined to agree with him; not about the angel part, but definitely the wrath because Garrett is feeling all kinds of betrayal and violation and fury.

He’s not alone in his wrath, because he can see it mirrored perfectly in John’s gaze, two sides of the same coin in a manner of speaking.

\---

They ride the elevator up to Fontaine’s penthouse, Garrett leaning heavily into John’s side, his heartbeat having grown incredibly weak. Lot 192 wasn’t in Tenenbaum’s apartment; Fontaine had the place ransacked for it.

Garrett hates how weak his limbs have become since John practically has to carry him up the stairs towards the office where Lot 192 is most likely located.

“Almost there, little lamb. Just keep your eyes wide open for me, alright?”

He tries to nod, but his head just lolls to the side, though they’ve finally made it up the stairs and into the office and there on the table sits Lot 192. It works immediately and Garrett can feel his heartbeat stabilize to something more normal, but there’s something off.

“Lot 192 has reorganized your entire plasmid structure,” Tenenbaum informs them over the radio. “I should have known you would need a larger dosage. Your life is no longer in immediate danger, but you’ll have to find another dosage to fully remove the effects. There should be more in Suchong’s lab in Artemis Suites.”

Garrett wants to set off right away, but he’s still feeling weak and tired which will only put the both of them in danger, not to mention his legs tremble beneath him, barely able to hold his weight, when he tries to slide off of the desk John sat him on. Garrett doesn’t even protest when John picks him up again and carries him over to the bed.

“We’ll go in a couple of hours. Sleep,” John says as he crawls into bed behind him, a wall of warmth pressed against Garrett’s back.

And Garrett does, feeling safe for the first time in a very, very long time.

\---

He wakes up a little while later, though he has no idea what time it is.

John is still asleep next to him so Garrett carefully slides out of the bed. For lack of anything better to do, he wanders around the room; the watery light that filters in through the large windows provides enough light to see what there is.

Honestly, there isn’t much. The place has been tossed and there are a few books scattered here and there. But there’s also a record player in the corner and Garrett makes a beeline for it. There aren’t a lot of records left either – most are either broken or were probably just stolen – but he manages to find one of the Ink Spots albums.

Garrett adjusts the volume in an attempt to not wake John, but the guy must be a light sleeper since Garrett can hear the bed shift as John gets up.

When he turns he sees John standing there, hand outstretched with a smile on his face.

“Care to dance?”

Smiling back, Garrett lets John lead and the Ink Spots sing _‘Maybe’_ as they slow dance at the bottom of the ocean.

\---

Garrett supposes one good thing about being a genetic experiment is that it doesn’t take long for him to bounce back from almost having his heart give out on him, because after a couple hours of sleep he’s fighting fit again, though his vision does occasionally flash blue, but that’s not so bad.

As they walk through the metro that leads to Artemis Suites, there are pictures of missing people plastered on almost every wall.

They find the second dose of Lot 192, as well as what remains of Suchong.

\---

Garrett’s never really thought of the future all that much.

The farthest he’s thought ahead is getting out of Rapture. After that, he has no clue where to go from there. He’s just kind of winging it.

John has no idea either other than “Rapture is rotting corpse and I’d rather we didn’t rot with it.”

\---

“I remember when me and the Kraut put you in that sub. You were no more than two. You were my ace in the hole, but you were also the closest thing I ever had to a son. And that’s why this hurts. Betrayal, kid. Life ain’t strictly business.”

\---

Fontaine looks like a muscular monstrosity, his skin looks oddly metallic and for some reason he’s naked.

Apparently getting hopped up on ADAM the way Fontaine has means no more pants, which Garrett thinks is really ridiculous. Kind of puts a weird spin on the whole megalomaniac angle.

Fighting Fontaine is easier when John takes care of the security bots that come swarming in, which means Garrett has less to worry about and he can keep Fontaine focused on him.

When Fontaine’s veins turn a sickly neon blue from all the ADAM Garrett has drained from him splicers begin to show up. Not so many that John can’t handle them himself, but it’s a close thing.

And then Garrett goes to drain the last bit of ADAM from Fontaine’s system and the man sends him flying across the room with a swift backhand. Got hit so hard the room is still spinning and his ears are ringing so loudly that it sounds like whale song. 

“—life you thought you had, that was something I dreamed up and—”

Garrett tries pushing himself up, but it’s not going so great. Fontaine’s staggering around, ranting at him, and John sneaks over to Garrett, getting a shoulder under Garrett’s arm and lifting him up.

“—even led you to this fuckin’ artsy maniac so you could indulge that little infatuation of yours. Now, if you don’t call that family, I don’t know what is. And now—”

Whatever Fontaine was going to say he never gets to, because he’s being swarmed by the cured Little Sisters who use their syringes on him and then things get a little fuzzy for Garrett after that.

The only thing he remembers is the sound of little girls yelling _‘Kill him!’_ and John humming that one Vera Lynn song to him.

\---

The sunlight is brighter than he remembers it being when he and John step out of the bathysphere and onto dry land; Garrett has no idea how Tenenbaum managed to get the bathyspheres to surface somewhere other than at the lighthouse. Hell, he has no idea where Tenenbaum and the Little Sisters went in their own bathysphere, but he’s pretty sure Tenenbaum doesn’t want him to go looking.

A small part of him wants to, mostly to make sure the girls are okay after Rapture, that they will be okay, but their futures lie elsewhere.

“Any idea where we are?” Garrett asks.

“I’d say somewhere along New York’s coastline. Maybe.”

Garrett hums in answer and takes John’s hand, letting him lead Garrett wherever they’re going next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've got other fics i should be working on but it was 2am and i just had the urge to write more bioshock au. i'll edit any mistakes later but rn im gonna go crash for a few hours
> 
> (i was tempted to have this end w/ garrett waking up in the bathysphere by himself and john staying behind in rapture lmao)


End file.
